


Days of Advent, Chapter 4: Shinra Company Men

by CorsairOriginal



Series: Days of Advent [9]
Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, On The Way To A Smile: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Experimentation, Loss of Limbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsairOriginal/pseuds/CorsairOriginal
Summary: The Highwind is ready for take off for perhaps the last time. Reeve informs Vincent that an old friend is aware he’s alive and wanting to catch up.**Contains Spoilers for Before Crisis FFVII******For those who haven't read "Through Another's Eyes," I would recommend at least reading Chapters 1,2, 13, and 14. While not completely necessary, it does help to understand where this story starts from.****
Series: Days of Advent [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903474
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Days of Advent, Chapter 4: Shinra Company Men

The bustle of activity around the  _ Highwind _ passed in sharp contrast to the gray cloud that hung over its captain as he barked out orders and directed the crew. It was unlikely that anyone else could see it, but Vincent had spent enough time around Cid Highwind that he had learned well by now what his various levels of frustration covered—nuances that most might reserve for other emotions. Cid’s brow was tight as he jogged around the foot of the ship, but his blue eyes were distant and dull as he monitored the takeoff preparations. His attention was on the tests for the engines and the preflight preps, but his focus kept drifting to the group watching the ordered chaos from a distance.

Vincent sat on a set of empty crates near the gangplank, nearby enough to see this minutia in Cid’s expressions. 

Cid glanced in his direction, then half-smiled wearily and neared. As he approached, Cid adjusted his flight goggles and wiped his forehead. “Well? Just gonna sit it out?”

Vincent tilted his head slightly. Cid was particular with the  _ Highwind,  _ asking Vincent to give any assistance was unusual. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Straightening his jacket after a shrug, Cid waved a hand. “Ah, that came out wrong. I mean…What do ya think you’re gonna do now?”

Vincent had gotten the question repeatedly since Meteorfall, at least once from every single one of his companions. He had not been sure of an answer every time, and this time was no different. It was a strange feeling, so many being concerned what he would do or where he would go. Vincent shrugged back to Cid. “I haven’t decided.”

His face softening, Cid searched for words for a moment, then gestured toward the gangplank. “Ya know…all of us in Rocket Town, we gotta figure out how to get a whole world runnin’ without mako. We’re gonna need extra hands.”

Vincent had guessed where the conversation had been going, not that it took effort to do so. “…I’m not an engineer or a mechanic.”

“You’re a weapon smith, right?” Cid offered, pointing to the  _ Cerebus _ at Vincent’s hip. 

A gentle grin came to Vincent. Vincent had never brought vocal attention to any of the modifications he’d done to his sidearm over the course of their journey. He had limited his work to when he’d assumed the others were asleep, but of course the engineer had noticed. “I would only get in the way.”

Cid’s smile grew strained. “Of course ya wouldn’t.”

Vincent had no plans to spell it out for him. Cid had nothing but the best of intentions, but Vincent could only glance away and fall silent.

Thankfully, Cid understood that was the end of it. Tiredly, he sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “Suit yourself. Just do me a favor, Vince.”

Vincent met eyes with him again to show he was listening.

“Don’t run off.”

Vincent’s brow grew tight underneath his bandana. None of the others knew Vincent as well as Cid did. It was baffling that he couldn’t see the reason why Vincent was giving him space. “…There’s a lot to do here.”

A half-smirk returning to his chiseled face, Cid shook his head. “That ain’t what I asked, is it?”

Utterly baffling, and a bit disheartening. “I’m staying to help.”

Letting out a short huff, Cid looked at Vincent with thin eyes. “Uh huh. Alright. I’m choosing to believe you. It’s…” His face fell and his voice softened. “It’s probably gonna be a long time before I can get back. The  _ Highwind _ …she may never fly again. She’s a mako ship. With how much she’s already been through, I…I don’t think refitting her will work without dismantling her completely, anyway. Until we can figure out how to get other transportation in the air, I’ll be…” The word he struggled to say made his face contort as though it were bitter and foul. “…landlocked.”

Vincent was disappointed along with Cid, it must have been agonizing to face. Everyone would have to sacrifice, but being kept from the sky for even a short while would be losing a vital piece of himself. “You’ll find a way to get around.”

Bringing a smile back, Cid shrugged. “I know it. Don’t mean I look forward to it.”

Vincent nodded to him. “The rest of us will stop by somehow.”

“Better make it fast,” Cid added, his smile growing. “Shera wants to see you all again. She thinks you have great hair, by the way.”

Despite himself, a grin came to Vincent. “Tell her thank you. She may be the only one who thinks that.”

“I sure as shit don’t,” Cid laughed, tapping Vincent’s shoulder with a fist. “Alright. I gotta get this bird in the air.”

Vincent hopped off his seat, his feet lightly meeting the ground. As the  _ Highwind’s _ engines started for perhaps the last time, Vincent and his fellow planet protectors gathered near the gangplank. Cid passed hugs to each of them, a brave yet bittersweet smile on him. He and Cloud fist bumped, when he offered one to Tifa he got another desperate hug instead. Reeve shook his hand and let him know he’d be in touch for work, and surprisingly, Cait Sith was there to independently give well-wishes too. (Seeing the two of them side by side made Vincent curious as to how exactly Reeve controlled Cait Sith…There was nothing visual that gave the slightest indication how he did it.) Yuffie tried to hide her watery eyes to little avail, and Nanaki gave a reassuring rub to Cid’s legs.

Barret and Marlene stepped forward, and Cid knelt to greet the child. “Alright, kiddo. Ya ready for yer first flight?”

Eagerly, Marlene gave an awkward salute. “Aye aye, Captain!”

“Ya learn fast, kid, I like that!” he laughed, rubbing a hand on top of her head. As Marlene smoothed down her hair with a pout, Cid stood and patted Barret’s shoulder. “Yer all good to go, my man?”

Barret nodded, and waved to the others. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

The group called out farewells to them, and as the three disappeared up the gangplank, the spectators cleared the way. From a distance, those remaining around Midgar watched the  _ Highwind _ rise above Kalm and fly west on its final journey. For a time they all kept their eyes on the ship while it became a decreasing speck in the distance. As sunset began to color the sky, the fading  _ Highwind _ was no longer noticeable, and they had no choice but to turn and head back into town. 

“So, I guess you’re joining us in Elmyra’s house?” Tifa asked Vincent with a hopeful smile.

“It seems a bit cramped,” he replied.

“Where else are you gonna sleep?” Cloud asked doubtfully. “There’s still a couch. Elmyra is taking Marlene’s bed.”

“Can’t be any less comfortable than where you were in the Highwind, right?” Tifa added.

“He gets the loveseat,” Yuffie cut in. “It’s my turn for the sofa.”

“I could keep the couch,” Reeve offered.

“Then  _ you _ get the loveseat!” Yuffie protested loudly. “I said it’s  _ my _ turn for the sofa.”

Reeve grimaced, to which Cait chirped, “She did call dibs, we all heard it.”

“You little traitor,” Reeve hissed to his partner.

“Aye learned from the best!”

At this Vincent couldn’t help but join in the shocked laughter from the others at Reeve’s expense. Reeve only shook his head and shrugged sheepishly.

Vincent relented, “I suppose a love seat is not the worst place I’ve slept.”

Tifa clenched her fists in eagerness, her smile widening. “There we go.”

“Though, uh,” Reeve said, clearing his throat. “Just a moment, let me borrow Vincent.”

Vincent and Reeve paused at the edge of Kalm’s main street, allowing the others to walk on. “What is it?” Vincent asked.

“In the pub there’s someone who wants to see you,” Reeve said with a grin.

Dubious, Vincent tilted his head slightly. There was no one he could think of he wanted to speak to that wasn’t already headed to Elmyra’s home. “…Who.”

Stunned by the coarseness of the question, Reeve’s eyebrows raised. “Uh. Goodness, I was hoping to let you be surprised. It’s an old friend?” he offered.

There was only one friend who knew Vincent was alive. “…Veld Dragoon is here?”

Allowing a stunned laugh, Reeve blinked at him. “Well. Once a Turk, always a Turk, I suppose. So much for surprises.” With a gentle smile he added, “You should see him.”

Uncomfortably, Vincent glanced away. “The last time I saw him I didn’t act like much of a friend.”

“So, try again,” Reeve pressed. 

“What have ye got to lose?” Cait added from their feet.

Vincent’s eyes thinned at Cait, but he nodded. “I’ll be back later, then.”

“That’s th’spirit!” Cait affirmed, giving Vincent the thumbs up.

“…How are you doing this?” Vincent asked Reeve, pointing between him and Cait.

“Now ye’re gettin’ a wee too personal,” Cait said, propping his hands on his hips with a shake of his head. “Ye keep all yer secrets close, it’s only fair, aye? We best be off.”

“If I hear from Veld that you showed, I  _ might _ let you know how I do it,” Reeve added, grinning as he walked toward the square. 

Vincent watched the bizarre pair make their way to their temporary home, and wordlessly turned to skulk the opposite way.

***

The pub had sparse patrons for the hour, but it was unlikely Kalm ever had a packed house in any establishment. Smoke lingered in the air, accompanying the idle chatter and clinking of glasses. The residents of Kalm had adapted relatively quickly to the new restrictions on mako use: materia shard lanterns hung above the bar and from the electric light fixtures.

Far against the opposite wall, Vincent could see a familiar man in a black suit with graying, chestnut hair. In a private booth, Veld sat idly with a pint of some dark brew. Vincent didn’t have time to debate slinking back out before Veld’s gray eyes snapped to the open door of the pub and a slight smile curved his angular face. Veld kept his eyes on Vincent as he approached, his face softening with distant nostalgia.

“Incredible…” he murmured as Vincent paused beside his booth. Veld stood and spread an arm to offer a hug. “Even though I saw you before, it’s still such a shock to see you looking exactly the same.”

Vincent forced himself to accept, his gauntlet patting Veld’s broad shoulder as they met. When they parted, Veld gestured to the seat opposite him. “I made sure to find a corner sound won’t travel well from. Join me. Please.”

Vincent nodded and sat, also noticing that their vantage point allowed them to watch every other patron and both doors. Veld was much more thorough than all those years ago, it seemed. “Reeve told you about me?”

“Well, I wanted to know who all I had to thank for being alive, and he provided. He had no idea we knew each other, I certainly had no idea the both of you did.”

“I only met him in person the day after Meteorfall.”

“Ah, yes,” Veld chuckled, an old streak of burn scars across the left side of his face moving with his smile. “You’re more familiar with Reeve’s friend Cait.”

“…You know Cait?”

With a nod, he took a long drink. “I first met Reeve when he was brought on to the Midgar project. He was very young. Shinra wanted eyes on him, and inadvertently I learned about some of his more peculiar talents.”

Vincent considered asking further on the matter, but he also wanted to hear about it from Reeve himself more. “The circumstances of our initial partnership weren’t ideal.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Veld very much looked his age as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know Reeve won’t talk in-depth about it, but Rufus Shinra didn’t give Reeve much choice. And it’s largely my fault Rufus knew about Reeve’s knack to begin with.”

_ Knack. _ Vincent had heard that word used to describe some variations of folk magic before. It was a very old word for it, and with Reeve’s natural accent being a Highland one, a few things began to make more sense. Never once had Vincent imagined Reeve could use magic without materia, and Reeve had always described Cait Sith as robotic. Interesting.

“Shinra as an organization uses whatever it considers its resources how it pleases,” Vincent said finally. “That was certainly not limited to Rufus. If he hadn’t, someone else would have.”

A heavy silence fell over the pair, and Veld stared into his glass. “Did you want anything?”

“I have no preference.”

Veld half-grinned. “Oh? You used to be so damn picky.”

Vincent’s eyes turned away briefly. “A lot has changed. I think it should be obvious I’m not the man you knew.”

Dismissively, Veld shrugged. “Neither am I. It’s been thirty years, Vincent. It’s ridiculous to think either of us would be. So much has happened…”

The simple logic in this brought a gentle smile to Vincent. “You can tell me whatever you like about it.”

“I’ll get you a drink first.” Veld slid out of the booth and walked to the bar, and after a few moments returned with a second glass of the same he was enjoying. He set the drink in front of Vincent and sank back into his seat with a kind of grunt that spoke of years of physical exertion taking its toll. “I…I also want to apologize first. When—The young lady who was with me is named Judet, by the way—When Judet and I found you, I said I would come back for you. I’m…” Awkwardly, Veld knitted his hands on the table. “I’m sorry I never did.”

Vincent undid the first several buckles of his high collar to make it easier to drink. After finishing a long sip of his dark stout, he let out a short “hmph” of approval. Then Vincent shook his head. “I wouldn’t have left the manor. I wasn’t ready.”

His brow tightening, Veld nodded in reply. “I see.”

“You were still a Turk and yet over the last few months we never ran into you,” Vincent noted. “Had Rufus delegated you to Shinra Tower?”

A half-smile came to him and Veld chuckled grimly. “I had retired.”

Vincent paused, arching an eyebrow. 

“No, Turks  _ don’t _ retire,” Veld clarified. “That hadn’t changed. I’m currently the record-holder for length of survival, but my daughter and I ran afoul of Shinra and it was best to no longer be considered alive.”

Amused, Vincent tilted his head. “Really.”

“I was Chief before that point,” he said. “As I said, a lot has happened.”

“You have a daughter?”

Veld’s face lightened and a warm smile came to him. “Do you remember Joy?”

It took several moments, but the relevance of the name began to surface in Vincent’s mind. “The woman you were seeing before I was transferred to Nibelheim.”

“We married,” Veld said, his smile bittersweet. “We had a girl, Felicia.”

“Joy is no longer with you?” Vincent guessed. When Veld’s smile waned in a faded, distant pain, Vincent added, “I’m sorry.”

A subtle shrug moving his shoulders, Veld exhaled lightly. “The years weren’t any easier on you, by the look of it.”

For a few moments, Vincent said nothing. He had no desire to describe decades of isolation and nightmares that did nothing to dull memories of beating on glass walls and lungs full of stinging fluid. “No. They weren’t.”

Veld swallowed visibly as his steel eyes lingered on the tabletop. “I…I would certainly love to find good things to talk about as far as the interim…but I don’t think either of us have much.”

Vincent gave no answer, taking another long drink.

Clearing his throat gently, Veld considered his next words. Vincent had never known Veld to mull over what he said so carefully. It was another change.

Finally, Veld began, “Nibelheim…He was there when you were…” He paused again, then looked up at Vincent. “The one responsible for you…” Awkwardly, he gestured to Vincent’s face. “It was Hojo. Wasn’t it?”

His eyes thinning, Vincent nodded.

Veld’s face grew tense as he scoffed. “I guessed.” Gradually, Veld reached to his left cuff, undid the buttons, then slid his sleeve past his wrist. Vincent’s eyes grew slightly larger, struck by the fact that he hadn’t noticed a difference between Veld’s right and left hands until attention was drawn to them. Now that Vincent watched Veld show off his left forearm, he could clearly see rubbery, off-color skin and could note the barest hints of metallic bones and delicate tubes like veins beneath the surface. When Veld flexed his fingers, hard plating shifted with the movements. Vincent had never seen a prosthetic like it. It didn’t look wholly natural, but it certainly didn’t look like a typical replacement.

A grim half-smile tugged at Veld’s lips. “Also Hojo’s work. Not at my request.”

A flare of anger spiked in Vincent’s chest, and from behind tight lips he grit his teeth. After a moment, Vincent mumbled, “If it was him, I’m sure it wasn’t painless. I’m sorry.”

His eyes cold, Veld nodded. “No…it certainly wasn’t. Vincent.” His gaze focused back on Vincent’s face. “I’m not exactly sure what I was hoping to say when I asked for this meeting…but I know what I  _ have _ to say. You owe nothing in return.”

Unsure if he really wanted to hear more, Vincent held up a hand. “Veld…you don’t owe me anything either.”

“I still need to say it,” Veld answered in a low tone. “Bear with me. I’ve only told one other person any of this. Judet knows, but that’s it.”

Uncomfortably, Vincent continued to sip at his drink.

“North of Kalm, near the coast, there used to be a town named Stihl. Rather small.”

Vincent blinked, stunned. “‘Used to be’?” he repeated. Vincent and his companions hadn’t gone north of Kalm during their travels. It hadn't been necessary. “I remember that name. It…It’s your hometown.”

Swallowing dryly, Veld nodded. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“What did you mean ‘used to be’?” Vincent asked.

Closing his eyes briefly, Veld leaned his jaw against his right hand, his left idly tapping on the table. “…Almost twenty years ago, a disgruntled Shinra employee stole company secrets. Ones that would cost lives, especially if he sold them. He didn’t, but we learned he was working on biological weapons. Direct retaliation would be too dangerous.” Taking a moment, Veld polished off the last of his beer and exhaled sharply. “I located him and called in a strike. Interference on the lines caused the coordinates to be misheard…”

Sensing where this was headed, Vincent’s brow grew hard behind his bandana. “If you’re…not comfortable…”

Veld rubbed his eyes tiredly. “The strike hit Stihl directly. The whole town went up.”

Vincent subtly winced. He had never seen Veld’s hometown, but he recalled him describing it lovingly. Despite the years, Vincent could vaguely picture the gleam in Veld’s gray eyes, the eagerness in his smile the many times he had insisted Vincent visit. All that remained in Veld’s face as he glanced off were layers of regret and a hollow resignation.

“…You don’t have to go on,” Vincent insisted.

Distantly, Veld smiled. “You keep saying that. I’m the one making  _ you _ uncomfortable.”

Veld had gotten much better at reading people as well. “I’m sorry.”

“Please let me finish anyway,” Veld said in a soft voice.

Reluctantly, Vincent nodded.

“I had been in the middle of town square, safely away from where I thought the blasts would be,” Veld chuckled darkly. “One went off right next to me. That’s how I lost this arm,” he sighed, tapping each of the fingers of his left hand to his thumb. “I—tried to reach my family’s home. I don’t remember if I made it.

“I was already Chief of the Department of Administrative Research by then. So, my subordinates at the time were the ones who arrived to oversee the cleanup. Anyone in Stihl who hadn’t died in the strike was handed over to Hojo. Including me. I was apparently unrecognizable.”

Unconsciously, Vincent’s left fist clenched.

“Hojo was kind enough to inform the higher ups I was still alive,” Veld continued. “Once he fitted me with this, once he was done with whatever tests this arm gave him data for. Once he was done with me. 

“My wife had survived the attack. She didn’t survive Hojo.”

This had all happened at least ten years after Lucretia’s death and Vincent’s isolation. While it didn’t show outwardly, his throat was tight and it was a battle to suppress his boiling disgust. Hojo had destroyed so many lives close to Vincent, and it seemed no amount of effort on his part would ever make up for not stopping Hojo when he had the chance.

Surprisingly calm, despite what he was describing, Veld tapped the bottom of his empty glass on the table. “Hojo altered my daughter. She was only eleven and yet managed to survive his work. Her mind didn’t, but she did.”

“Veld—”

“I’m not done,” Veld said firmly. “In the remains of Stihl, Shinra scattered the bodies of monsters. Officially, the town fell to a creature attack, and Shinra arrived to put down the threats, but weren't able to save any of the people. They covered up my failure.”

“That wasn’t your failure—”

“It was  _ my _ failure,” he disagreed, his brow hard. “And after all that, after everything I was put through, I was handed back to Shinra. They only gave me a slap on the wrist, and I was expected to resume duty.”

Vincent looked away. 

“I learned the hardest truth. I wasn’t just a Shinra manager. I was company property. To be used as they decreed, and disposed of on their terms and not mine. I accepted this because I had nothing left. I had lost everything, and it was my own responsibility. I had no right to demand human dignity.”

Vincent glanced back at him, stunned to see none of the agony in Veld’s face that should have been there. He didn’t seem to be lying…he just felt nothing when he described all of this. Vincent felt slightly ill. His old partner had allowed Shinra to hollow him out and put nothing back in its place. Veld was missing something vital.

“I later discovered my daughter was alive, we found each other. However, that’s not important to what I’m saying right now…that’s a story for another time.” Sliding the empty glass away from his hands, Veld held them on the table cooly. “The important thing to understand is just how grateful I am to you and your friends for putting down that sick son of a bitch.”

Vincent forced himself to nod. “I’m sorry it couldn’t have happened sooner,” he said.

“The past can’t be changed,” Veld pointed out gently. “Vincent. Despite everything I just told you, I came back to Shinra when Midgar needed help. Do you have any idea why?”

“Because you wanted to help Reeve?” he suggested, tilting his head.

“Partially. But more because you and I both know very well Hojo was never alone.” Leaning forward slightly, an icy resentment began to show on his face. “Hojo took my wife, my child, my friends and neighbors…my old partner,” he added with a scowl. “But he had help doing it. He had an entire department under his command, and he had many ‘brilliant’ minds serving him and never once lifting a hand to stop him. The instant Hojo was announced dead, much of the Science Division’s upper hierarchy disappeared.”

Vincent frowned.

“They know retribution is coming,” Veld said, his voice shifting into a bitter growl. “They know Hojo and Shinra can’t protect them anymore. And I want to rest, but I will  _ not _ do so until someone answers for what’s passed,” he seethed, jabbing a finger on the table. “They don’t  _ deserve  _ anonymity. They don’t deserve sanctuary from the city states, and they absolutely  _ cannot _ be allowed to hand over any of Hojo’s work to anyone else.

“Hojo is dead, and every single psychopath who enabled him must be held accountable for the work they had a hand in.”

Veld had no idea that included Vincent, but as he said, the past couldn’t be changed. Only atoned for. “You’re going after them.”

Hungrily, Veld grinned. “I brought back with me a group that is loyal to me, and I will have their help in this.” He held out his right hand to Vincent. “But I can’t be in the field like I used to. I also need to make sure Reeve has trustworthy associates near him. My hunt could use every bit of help it can get. Especially someone whose specialty was tracking.”

No options for Vincent had sounded like an effort he would be useful in. Someone had finally appealed to Vincent in a way that mattered. Atonement was the reason he had woken from the nightmares, and Veld’s proposition satisfied a sliver of Vincent’s need for it. “I would be willing to help, but I will not rejoin the Turks.”

“Good for you,” Veld said with a smile. “Luckily, the Turks are no longer an entity.”

Vincent blinked in surprise. Something really was changing in Shinra if a Chief of the Turks was willing to drop the name.

“However, Shinra SpecOps will be glad to have the aid,” Veld said firmly, his hand raising for a shake.

Something about the gesture was a bit too formal, too official for Vincent, but for the sake of his old partner he accepted the shake. “Just to be clear…I don’t take orders, and I will provide aid only on my own terms.”

“I would expect nothing less, old friend.” Veld’s eyes smoldered as he added, “Let’s make the bastards pay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Time for the audience unfamiliar with Veld Dragoon or his Before Crisis backstory to learn a thing or two. This version is like 95% what happened in the actual backstory, 5% altering some names or events for simplicity or logic's sake. The name "Stihl" is mine. Ya know ... cuz "Stihl" and "Kalm" are close to each other because I'm *very* clever. Also, Veld's wife never had a name so she gets to be Joy. He lost his Joy a long time ago, but "Felicia" means the same thing so he got his "joy" back. ; w ;
> 
> The Nuremberg trials are coming for every one of Hojo's old runnin' crew and they are gonna deserve every bit of it. My sympathy for anybody like 'em is about like Veld's.


End file.
